


Names

by quickthorn



Category: Pillars of Eternity, Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire
Genre: Angst, Dreadful puns, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Pillars Prompt 0005, Pre-Relationship Aloth/Watcher, Prompt Fic, old flame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quickthorn/pseuds/quickthorn
Summary: The Watcher gets a bounty who reminds her of a past she'd rather forget.  The one upside?  Now she has someone she can confide in, over a glass of fine Aedyran mead.   Pillars Prompt 0005, Old Flames





	Names

The ship battle was over. The crew let off a rousing cheer before proceeding to strip the enemy ship of everything they could carry back to the Defiant.

Aloth looked over at Eder. “Where's Sandrine? I haven't seen her since the battle ended.”

Edér shrugged. “Think I saw her heading below deck.”

That was unusual. She usually joined in the cheering and helped tally up and divide the spoils. So far, their haul included some gold, a cask of grog, several bottles of fine Aedyre mead and some highly questionable clothing choices.

He looked around, uneasy yet unable to pinpoint why. “I can't see the man described by the bounty. I don't see anyone with an eyepatch. Did he jump overboard?”

“Don't think so,” interjected Serafen. “We're too far from land, and no-one can swim that sodding far. 'Cept 'im,” he added, nodding at Rekke.

* * *

 

 _I didn't have to go after him_ , thought Sandrine, _but he deserved it._ She didn't want to watch the beheading of the bounty, a necessary evil so that they could offer up the grisly evidence later in return for gold. She hadn't seen him go down, but the battle was over so she had no doubt that he was part of the body count scattered over the decks. She opened the door and walked down into the relative gloom of the lower deck.

She heard a sharp little bark, then another as a small, fluffy dog came trotting up to her, more fur than body. It was Edér's latest adoption, and while she was wary of dogs, this one seemed harmless, save for the piercing bark. It followed her to her cabin. “You're not coming in,” she said as she reached for her key. The dog sniffed at the door, growling. “No,” she said firmly, and it whined before backing off.

The door was already open. She must have been in a hurry when the bounty signal sounded earlier, and forgot to lock the door.

“My lady, please wait...” The Steward, stationed outside, tried to get her attention. “We'll talk later,” Sandrine said as she pushed open the door. She shut it quickly, not wanting to let the dog in.

Something felt wrong and she couldn't pinpoint why. The Steward was still talking outside, but the words were half drowned out by barking. She crossed the room towards the bed before she sensed that she wasn't alone, and as she turned, a man opened the door of her wardrobe and stepped out.

Linnet. Or Lord Lindoel.

“Hello, Gunda.” He walked to the door and leaned back on it. With a flick of his hand, he turned the key on the inside of the lock.

“That's not my name any more. I changed it when I left Aedyr. Then again, you're not called Linnet, are you?”

“It's Lindoel now. We change over time, don't we, my sweet?”

“You don't have the right to call me that any more.” She could hear her own heartbeat thudding in her ears. She didn't know if she was scared or angry or both. She just wanted him gone.

“I knew you'd be angry,” he said. “I can understand why, but you just killed my crew, which hurts. That's why I locked the door. I don't want your friends getting the wrong idea.”

She looked at him, and measured her chances. He sported a pair of daggers, already bloodied. She knew she wasn't the best at close quarter fighting. She liked standing behind others, supporting them with chants and summoning monstrous allies. She couldn't even summon straight away, for she needed time for the chants to build up momentum, until the air felt charged like the coming of a storm. Her skills were weak at the start of a fight, deadly towards the end.

“You've clearly got something you wish to tell me. Now you're here, you may as well have a seat.” She gestured over at the cane chair in the corner, the one furthest from the door. She thought of it as Aloth's chair, since he always sat in it when he visited her, being a creature of habit. Even if she dashed to the door, could she unlock it in time? He hadn't thought to remove the key yet.

Lindoel glanced at the chair, and she could see the contempt in his one good eye at such an obvious ploy. “I'm fine standing here,” he said. “I regretted leaving you, but a few years have passed since we saw each other and I don't want to play any games.”

That last comment was so deeply ironic that she could have laughed, had she been in a state where she was capable of it. “Don't give me that crap,” she said.

He frowned. “You were never rude before. I hope you haven't lost all of your sweetness out on the high seas. I took a risk sneaking in here, just so I could talk to you.”

She needed to get him away from that door. “You have your chance. You can begin by telling me what you really want.”

He gave her a slow smile. “You.”

* * *

 

Aloth had made a mental tally of the dead – not a task he relished – and he still couldn't see the man with the eyepatch. Somewhere in the hold, a dog was barking, or rather yapping repeatedly: Edér had picked up a small, fluffy stray in the port recently, claiming it would be good at keeping the hold free of rats. He hadn't considered that the ship cats already did that task, far more quietly.

Just then, he heard a shout from below deck. “Get down here! Help!” Sandrine sounded panicky. He ran downstairs with the others, and could hear her chanting, in the staccato way she did when she was caught up in close combat.

Edér and Pallegina bashed the door down, and after that they all made short work of the intruder as they piled into the room. Sandrine was breathing hard, and was holding her left arm. Blood dripped through her fingers.

Xoti found a clean bandage, sloshed rum over it then applied it to the Watcher's arm. Sandrine winced.

“Don't you worry 'bout a thing, Watcher.” said Xoti. “There's a bit of blood but we ain't gonna need to cut your arm off or nothin'. Just you hold on tight and I'll pray the wound seals up real nice. After I'm done, do you want me to reap the soul over there?”

“Please,” Sandrine said through gritted teeth. “I don't want him following me around.”

“Never had a bounty try and stow away before.” said Edér. “Guess there's a first time for everything.”

“He had the gall to think I'd team up with him, even though we won,” Sandrine said. She sounded bitter, which wasn't like her at all. “I declined his kind offer.”

The small dog had followed them all into the room and was now dancing around excitedly: Edér scooped it into his arms. “Hey Buddy. Battle's over now. No more ankles left to bite.”

Aloth took a quick glance down at the corpse, a meadow folk human with chestnut brown hair lightly streaked with grey. One side of his face was badly scarred with an eye missing, while the other side showed that he must have been handsome once. He'd seen the man before, when they first visited Fort Deadlight, save the man had been wearing an eyepatch then. He'd spoken to Sandrine that day. “Do I know you from somewhere?” he had asked her. “I'm sure I've seen your lovely face before.”

“Don't fink so, mate,” Sandrine blurted out in the fake accent she was using that day, although she let out a deep breath as soon as she rounded the corner. By contrast the man's own accent sounded like Aedyran cut glass, which was probably how he earned the nickname 'Lord' Lindoel.

Sandrine seemed quite rattled, although that was hardly surprising under the circumstances. “Could someone please take him out of here?” she said, with a hint of desperation in her voice.

“You want Buddy to go away? You'll hurt his feelings,” said Edér, attempting to cover the dog's ears.

Aloth sighed deeply.

“Postenago! She means the dead man on the floor.” said Pallegina.

“Oh! Sure. Time he stopped overstaying his welcome.” Eder set down the dog and hefted up the corpse by his shoulders: Pallegina picked up the feet, and everyone else filed out of the room behind them.

Aloth went back to Sandrine's cabin a while later, armed with a couple of glasses of mead. While it was a stronger brew than he usually enjoyed, one glass wouldn't do any harm and he thought Sandrine might appreciate it. Her door was still broken but she had rigged up some sailcloth over the door frame temporarily.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, but he noticed that her eyes were red and puffy as if she'd been crying.

“If it's a bad time I could just leave a glass here for you.”

“No, I'd appreciate both the drink and some company.”

As he handed her the glass, Sandrine added “Most of all, I need to stop thinking.”

“I know that feeling only too well,” he said, pulling up the cane chair before settling down.

She took a sip of the mead. “Mmm. That takes me back,” she said. Her expression didn't suggest a happy memory. Absently, she fingered the scars at the corners of her mouth. Like the one he had on his forehead, they were faint silver lines now.

“Forgive me if I am being intrusive, but I had the impression that you knew the man who was in your room earlier.”

“He was the reason I left Aedyr.” She took another sip from her glass. “You could say that he was my own personal Bertenno.”

 _Bertenno?_ “I recognise the name, but I can't recall where I've heard it before.”

“He was Fassina's boyfriend. The one who robbed Arkemyr's shop.”

“I see. “Aloth was beginning to understand what she meant, now. No wonder Sandrine had been so keen to help Fassina.

When he met Sandrine for the first time in Gilded Vale, she said she was a merchant who had lost all her stock to raiders before leaving her home. While he sympathised with her plight, he was far more intrigued by her encounter with a biawac, and the strange ritual she'd witnessed at an Engwithan ruin. So he'd never asked what happened with the raid and she hadn't offered more information, although she shared plenty of other details about her past later. “Did our bounty steal from your shop, just like Bertenno stole from Fassina?”

* * *

 

Sandrine felt the need to confide in someone, and who else? He was her oldest friend on this ship besides Edér. Of the two, Aloth was a better confidant, since he was thoughtful, discreet and less likely to laugh at her. He also had a judgemental streak at times, though: she had noticed his disapproving looks and comments about a couple of her new friends. She decided to tell him her story, but wasn't sure if she should share every detail.

“It happened not long after my grandfather died. My aunt inherited the business but she was still travelling and didn't care to come back home yet, so I was left managing the music shop. During that time a new customer called Linnet kept coming in to see me. He said he was a bard. He turned on the charm and I fell for him completely. Looking back, I never heard him sing and he only played the simplest tunes. His real bardic art was spinning stories and I believed every word.”

Aloth nodded. He was leaning forward slightly, his fingers intertwined: he did not look like he was judging her. Yet.

“Back then, I was as naïve as Xoti, minus the religious fervour.” _And as desperate to divest myself of my virginity, even though it wasn't the done thing back home._ “He said he'd never thought of settling down before, but now he hoped for a future with me. Around that time I had trouble with shoplifters. He told me I needed to improve my security. He asked where every lock and trap was located, so that he could upgrade them. By then, I trusted him completely and told him everything he needed to know. I think you'll guess what's coming next.”

_He wanted to play a game. He said I'd have a night I'd never forget. I felt unsure, but he said he loved me and that if I loved him in return, I'd trust him._

Aloth was still listening, patiently.

“He must have been part of a gang. He was in my room above the shop one night when he signalled outside to them. He bound me and gagged me. They cleared the shop of the stock, including a priceless heirloom that an erl had sent in for repair.” It was the truth, but in the wrong order. She drained her glass in one gulp.

 _'You can't trust anyone, my sweet,'_ he'd said, before he got dressed and walked to the window. _'You had to learn that one day.'_

“He betrayed you completely,” Aloth said. “I'm so sorry you went through that experience.”

“So was I. A neighbour found me because the back door was left open after the robbery. I'd been trying to get free of the restraints, but hadn't quite managed yet. I couldn't face staying in town any more. I felt scared that someone might try and recoup debts that I couldn't pay. So I fled with the little money I had left. I felt so foolish. Guilty too.”

“You were the victim, not the perpetrator.”

“I know, but it wasn't my business that was stolen away. It was my aunt's inheritance. Even though I never liked her, I'd just made a huge mistake that meant she lost it all.”

“She in turn had left it in her niece's care, no doubt happy to skim off the profits. As you say, you were young and naïve, and someone took advantage. I suppose that it wasn't very responsible of you to run away, but clearly you learned from the experience. How else could you achieve so much, later on?” By Aloth's standards, he sounded rather impassioned.

“It helped that when I left, I met good people, like you and Eder. Besides, becoming a Watcher was a crash course in life experience, even if I didn't welcome it. So was my time in Caed Nua-” She cut herself off mid-sentence, then added, “On second thoughts, let's not mention Caed Nua. I'm beginning to feel like a walking disaster area.”

“Eothas fits that definition far more accurately,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Good point. Is there any more mead left?” she asked, gesturing with her empty glass.

“Plenty,” he said, “but wouldn't you rather have a khapa tea? I could bring some, if you'd like.”

“Aloth,” she said, somewhat offended. “One more glass won't turn me into an alcoholic.”

“No,” he answered apologetically. “Of course not.”

* * *

 

When he returned, carrying a bottle in one hand and and a pot of tea in the other, she was standing up, gazing through the porthole, but it was night and she probably couldn't see a thing.

“I thought you might like a choice,” he said as he set down the drinks.

“You're very kind,” she said. He looked back at her, and realised she meant it: she was looking at him with an affectionate, if rather wistful expression. At least she hadn't started crying again. He wasn't good with tears: he never knew what to do or say.

“Are you all right?” he asked, which was venturing into dangerous territory.

“You know how it is,” she said, smoothing over the bandage on her arm. “There's always some injury or other after a fight.”

He hadn't meant that, but it didn't matter. “As I can attest with my own vast experience of collecting them.”

He hadn't sat down yet: neither had she. “One good thing came out of this situation today. I remembered I still had this and I blocked him a couple of times when he tried to stab me.” She picked up what looked like a perfectly ordinary broomstick, although even from a few feet away, his hands tingled. If it looked like a mundane domestic tool, in truth it was a powerful quarterstaff layered with several enchantments.

“An interesting choice of weapon. Did you sweep him off his feet with it?”

“It was a clean sweep,” she countered.

“You could say that you cleaned up crime in the area.”

“I had to give him the brush-off first.”

“You should branch out into doing more bounties.”

“Stick around and you'll see.” She paused and pulled a face. “This is getting worse and worse, isn't it?”

“Perhaps all those terrible puns should be swept under the rug,” he agreed.

She smiled at him. She was standing closer to him now, and he felt oddly awkward. Perhaps he should go and pour the mead or the tea, just to have something to do with his hands.

“I've got something else to tell you,” she said, her smile fading.

He tensed, without even knowing why.

“My name. I was called Gunda when he knew me. I changed it because I wanted to make a fresh start, and I was also worried someone would pursue me over the shop losses. It seems ironic, now I go hunting down rogue ships, but there you are.”

He'd always known on some level that Sandrine didn't sound like a typical Aedyran name. It suited her, though. “Would you like me to start calling you by your old name?”

“It's not me. Not any more.” The corners of her mouth twitched. “Talking of name changes, I could call you Engferth, if you like.”

He laughed. “I'd prefer that you didn't.” During his time with the animancers in Port Maje, he'd considered them friends, yet he hadn't felt able to share more than small talk with them. They did not know his past, his name or his purpose. Meeting Sandrine again was a relief as well as a pleasure: she was one of the few people he had ever opened up to. If she could trust him with her own secrets in turn, that made him feel surprisingly happy.


End file.
